Burning Incense
by Percephonie
Summary: "I mean, who wouldn't be stressed out if they had to kill their boyfriend's dad in less than twenty-four hours?" / A series of Zukaang one-shots.
1. Breakfast

He sat on the railing of the balcony. It was surprisingly peaceful on the island. The sun hadn't even started breaking the horizon. The beach house was still. The calm before the storm.

"Zuko?"

Was peaceful.

"You're up late." Aang said, floating down onto the railing next to him, lightly brushing his shoulder in the process. Zuko could all but feel the blood rush to his cheeks.

"So late it's early," he said, scratching the back of his head. No sooner had his hand dropped did Aang's go up. He brushed his bangs from his eyes. He held his hand there a moment, half-hoping to freeze the hands of time. Capture the moment at hand. He wanted to stay. Stay here where the outside world was none of their concern, and they none of the outside world's. But such fantasies were exactly that – fantasies. He finally – reluctantly let his hand slide down. They turned their attention back to the horizon. Aang began to twiddle a small flame between his fingers. Zuko watched from the corner of his eye. It flickered and danced over his knuckles, up and down his arm, around his wrist, and back to his palm before puffing out. He glanced at Zuko. His subtle cry for attention. He smirked at his young protégé.

"Would you like a cookie?" He knew how to get to him. Aang gave a shy smile. Then it was gone, almost as quick as it came. He picked at his nails. For someone who didn't mind getting his hands dirty, they were surprisingly clean.

"Zuko,"

That was all he had to say. Looking at him now, he seemed small. This wasn't Avatar Aang, the world's only hope. This was Aang, the twelve-year-old kid. Even in the dim light Zuko could tell the boy was trembling. He couldn't see them, but he knew there were tears. He could feel his stomach contort out of its normal shape. He didn't know what else to do, so he just held his hand, gently stroking his thumb with his. When the shaking didn't stop, he pulled him closer, wrapping one arm around him. He couldn't find the words that would make the silent sobs stop.

 _Hey, don't worry. I hate my dad so it's totally fine if you annihilate him._

"Everything'll work out," he said hardly believing his own words. He could have left it at that.

"I mean, who wouldn't be stressed out if they had to kill their sweetheart's dad in less than twenty-four hours?" He continued, regretting the words as soon as they'd left his mouth.

"Zuko…" he groaned into his hands.

He apologized – in his way. He jumped off the ledge, the nearby foliage tickling his leg.

"Come on," he said. "Let's find you some breakfast."

"There's plenty of food in the house," he said. Zuko acted as if he didn't hear him and began walking. He let out a tired sigh and floated down onto the boy's back.

Zuko cocked his head.

"Don't tell me you want to be carried," he said.

He could just see the sleepy smile Aang gave him.

 _I do and you will, you big lug._

He rolled his eyes, adjusting the smaller boy. Aang latched onto his back, nuzzling his face against his shaggy mane. Incense. Candles alone just didn't seem to get the job done nowadays.

"You've been working on your temper," the little monk said between yawns.

"Mhm," Zuko said. His human luggage said nothing more as they trekked through the surrounding woods. He wasn't heavy in the least, but after so long the young prince became winded. He finally came to a stop in a small clearing – their hideaway from the hideaway. He glanced around the area.

"Now where's our berry bush?" he asked.

 _Ours._ Zuko smiled at the memory as if it had been twenty years instead of two short days.

"This little guy just needs a little TLC, is all," Aang had said, feeling its malnourished leaves. The then-frail bush had had the misfortune of growing in the midst of wild vines and weeds. Somehow or other he'd convinced Zuko to end training early that day. They had spent the better half of the afternoon blowing away pests and whacking away vines that had overgrown their boundaries. The two of them had continued to care for it in the following days, between training and other affairs. According to Aang, it was theirs now.

The little bush stood as proud as an oak tree now. He was glad he'd given in to Aang's pleas.

When there was no reply he peeped around his shoulder. His breathing was steady and even, nearly identical to that of a baby's.

"Of course,"

He carried the sleeping boy to a corner of the clearing, sitting him against a tree trunk. He brushed away a dark smudge from his cheek. Still no tossing and turning – still no nightmares. Perfect. The last thing he needed – that they all needed was a bad dream with some hidden prophecy. Another one that is. He then went over to the little bush and picked the paltry dozen berries it offered. Something scurried away into the looming trees. He paid it no mind, and nestled next to the sleeping beauty. Almost on cue, he settled even further into him. His head rose and fell in rhythm with his chest. The sun was up now. It peeped through the leaves of the trees, landing directly in his line of sight. His hand went up, trying to block the sun's rays, to no avail.

"Everyone's probably awake by now," Aang said, sleep still lingering in his voice. Goosebumps popped up on Zuko's arms. Aang just had that effect on him. Particularly sleepy Aang. He wanted him to keep talking, but he wasn't so lucky.

"You think so?"

"Mhm,"

"Don't you want your breakfast?" he asked, waving the blackberries under the half-awake boy's nose.

"Mhm," He held out his hand and caught a third of the berries Zuko had picked. They never even made it to his lips.


	2. Difference

"Do you love her?" Zuko asked.

"Yeah." Aang answered quietly.

And there it was. He silently drew in a deep breath. Wiping his palms on his pants – they'd begun to sweat even on that cool night – he stood to leave.

"I love her, Zuko," Aang said.

Zuko felt his stomach churn.

"I heard you the first time," he muttered, sulking away.

"I'm not _in_ love with her."

"What's the difference?" Zuko spat over his shoulder. He stopped short when Aang dropped down in front of him.

"The difference," Aang began, "is that she's not the one I want to dance with. Or the one I want to be close to. She's not the one whose hand I want to hold."

The corner of Aang's mouth turned up into a teasing smirk.

"Or pour a hot cup of tea for." He continued. Zuko's expression remained hard and solemn. Aang let out a pleading sigh. He reached up to cup Zuko's cheek, now stained form a single tear traveling to his jawline. Zuko closed his eyes. The sound of his own heartbeat drowned out the waves crashing against the sand. His palms were sweating again. He wondered if they'd ever stopped. He opened his eyes again to see Aang's grey ones nearly filled to the brim. They were saying something; they were _pleading_ with him. Zuko's stern demeanor began to melt away.

"I'm not in love with _her_ , Zuko,"

He needed him to know. Aang rubbed his thumb across Zuko's cheek. Smoother than the stones you'd find on the shore. He floated up until their faces were centimeters apart. Warmth spread from Zuko's lips to Aang's and throughout the rest of his body. Zuko wrapped his arms around the smaller boy's waist, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He melted into the prince's arms, resting one arm around Zuko's neck, gripping his shirt with one hand and his dark hair with the other. Soon they were out of breath. Their foreheads rested on one another's.

Aang sighed Zuko's name.

Zuko straightened his head. His eyes – eyes that we once so hard, were so soft now.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked.

Aang beamed at him for a moment, then rested his head on Zuko's chest.

"Nothing."


End file.
